


10 Million to the War Have Gone

by daredevilmoon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3229505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/pseuds/daredevilmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reflection of Thomas's 'treatments', as per series 5, and the strange illusions they give off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 Million to the War Have Gone

Thomas felt incredibly ill, but that had become normal relatively quickly, so that it hardly phased him until he took another dosage of the preparation. That was always something worse; it wasn’t the war, but it was another hell and he had stopped trying to keep down the contents of his stomach when those waves hit him. “Possibly unpleasant side effects,” he had been told, followed quickly with, “but well worth it.”

He certainly hoped so; he couldn’t imagine subjecting himself to this for nothing. The strain of this all dulled in comparison, he thought, to the idea of a lifetime of loneliness. He hadn’t been ashamed of himself, not how he was told he ought to be, yet there was still that terrific desire to be have someone. This medicine, cast against the weight of his past, seemed easier if only because it could never last so long.

This, Thomas reminded himself as he watched the syringe drink in the solution under his fingers: another reminder of war. He steeled himself against the oncoming barrage when he lifted his the syringe before his eyes to drain its air, eyeing the bubbled space with the sort of panicked thoughts that had crossed his mind when had received his blighty. He blinked slowly, his mind taking a moment to catch up, and he felt an awful constriction in his throat. 

After a shaky moment, he finally let the plunger in enough to manage his task: this, after all, was only carrying his own body back to safety. Still, it hardly seemed it when the needle was stuck into him, setting him a little dizzy with the pain of it: shells in the distance. Then those awful waves of nausea, like something was tearing at his insides, ending with painful retching: a mixed up memory of feeling someone’s intestines for the first time and vomiting only once the poor bastard had died, as though it had only just struck Thomas what he had done.

The onslaught continued, leaving him sitting on the floor with his legs spread like a forgotten doll. Too tired to fight them as he might have otherwise tried, he wept without force: the death of his Lieutenant, the force of every blow imparted.

The side effects were unpleasant - but the Allies had won the war, after all


End file.
